Female voice: He says that the person with particular talent will get better food.
Bling: That’s why the basketball team has those giants. One eight-foot-eight fucker called the Mongolian Tower! That’s quite lofty.
Editor: Is there a philosophy… I mean, what’s the party line on physical fitness?
Female voice: He says the party line is to become healthy first and then friendship and then competition.
Editor: I knew there had to be a party line. So why, ask him, did they never address the issue of fitness before, because—
Bling: They did address it. Mao made a big point of it. He was a goddamn
Editor: I mean was Mao aware of the fitness of the nation?
Female voice: In 1953 Chairman Mao noticed China’s health standard was low… because of disease and poverty. So after the liberation in ‘53 Chairman Mao decided to make it a special issue.
Whisper: … pickled cherries, pressed duck, shredded ham, mashed mollusks, dugong dumplings, goose ganbeied…
Male chinese voice:
Female voice: He says, “To the sportsmen of China and the U.S.”
All:
Editor: Ask them what they prescribe for an athlete who’s injured? Do they use acupuncture?
Female voice: He says, “Yes.”
Editor: Can he give me any specifics of athletes who had acupuncture used on them?
Female voice: He says he can only give personal experience. He was injured once and cured with acupuncture.
Bling: You know what the most recent study proves? I’ll tell you what the most recent study proves: That acupuncture works according to just how fucking educated you are. The more educated, the less it works.
Writer: Better watch that stuff, Bling.
Bling: Know why it’s called Mao-tai? I’ll tell you why it’s called Mao-tai. Mao had it invented when he couldn’t get a good mai tai.
Writer: Bling’s fortifying himself for the heartfelt thank-you he’s going to give Mr. Mude for all this free succor. Good God, look what I found in my soup. A
Bling: You better keep it. That’s the only head you’re gonna get in China.
Writer: Let’s see what else—
Whisper: He’s going in again, folks. Look out!
Writer: Well, here’s your basic pullybone.
Whisper: He’s working his way down, folks.
Writer: Pull, Big Tooth, win a wish.
Female voice: He won’t know that. He won’t, from the southwest—
Bling: She’s right. I’ve never seen a wishbone pulled anywhere but Pittsburgh.
Writer: Whatcha mean? Look there. His buddy knows. Okay, cuz, you pull.
Photog: Let me get a shot—
All: He wins.
Writer: You win. Ask him what his name is again.
Female voice: He says his name is Yang.
Editor: Ask him what his time is.
Female voice: He says—oh, he is
Editor: No time? Hasn’t he ever run a marathon before?
Female voice: No. The older fellow says he is a very good runner though.
Editor: Why was he invited?
Female voice: His friend says because he; Yang, has very good wins in 5,000.
Editor: What was his time in 5,000?
Female voice: He says he does not know his time. No times were taken.
Writer: Ask him—ask him about his family.
Female voice: He says he lives with his aunt and uncle near Qufu. And his mother. He says his father is dead.
Writer: An orphan! Here’s our story. The Cinderella orphan marathoner! A minority, unknown, shy, out of Outer Mongolia, sails past the pack and takes the gold. Just what I been wishing for…
Editor: Very nice. But he was the one that got the wish.
Male chinese voice:
Female voice: To the Long March!
All:
Editor: To the Long Run!
All:
Bling: To the MX missile system!
All:
Writer: Now you’ve stepped in it, Bling. Here comes our dude Mude.
Female voice: The gentleman of the press says that is Mr. Xu Liang coming with Mr. Mude. Our fastest runner. He has run in two hours thirteen something.
Editor: Two-thirteen! That isn’t loafing.
Mude: Good evening. I would like to introduce you to our Chinese champion, Mr. Xu Liang.
All:
Writer: He tosses ‘em, the champ does.
Bling: And this don’t look like the champ’s first stop. Hey, Xu Liang! To the Pittsburgh Pirates!
All:
Mude: By the way, Mr. Wu; I have something for you. Be so kind.
Bling: What is it?
Mude: Your official packet—your passes and name card and number. You have been invited to participate tomorrow, Mr. Wu. To run.
Bling: Oh, shit.
Editor: Bling? To run tomorrow?
